Scar Tissue
by Enide Dear
Summary: Cid discoveres Vincent's terrible secret and tries to help. His efforts are, however, not appreciated


Title: Scar Tissue  
Author: Enide Dear  
Rating: NC 17 for some swearing, nakedness and a kiss

Summary: Cid discovers Vincent's secret

Author's note: If there's anything cuter than Valenwind, I've yet to discover it (Logurt comes close, though)

Muses:

Scar tissue that I wish you saw  
Sarcastic mister know it all  
Close your eyes and I'll kiss you 'cause

With the birds I'll share  
With the birds I'll share  
This lonely view

With the birds I'll share  
This lonely view

~Scar Tissue, Red Hot Chilli Peppers

**  
Vincent slept in an old fashioned nightdress that covered him from head to toe. No matter the amount of teasing from the Avalanche members about how he looked like a very poor transvestite, or a walking tent, or a ghost, he crawled into the unshapely thing every night. Nothing but his face, feet and hands were ever shown to anyone and he suffered the gibes with barley a twitch.

Cid was halfway out the door one fine early morning, with Cloud and Nanaki two steps before him, when he suddenly swore:

"My ciggs! Hang on!"

To the exasperated sighs of the rest of the team, he ran back into the Inn, unable to face a day of killing monsters, unravelling mysteries and throwing dynamite without his addiction sated.

He tore up the door to the room he and Vincent shared without a second though for his roommate's strict sense of privacy, and barged in.

"Nonono! Get out!" Vincent flew to the wall so fast he was almost a blurr; pressing his back and shoulders against the wall he faced Cid, pale and naked.

Cid blinked in surprise. He'd thought Vincent was shy about his body – not, that Cid could see now, he had anything to be ashamed of – but the gunslinger made no move to cover himself, not even the bits and pieces that common sense of decency generally required being covered. He just hid his back, almost tearing the skin against the wall.

"Get. Out." He said through gritted teeth.

"Just came back for my ciggs…"

"Get out!" Vincent roared in panic, and Cid flew down the stairs again.

**  
But of course Cid couldn't leave a mystery like that alone. Throughout the day of fighting and splattering monster blood he kept being distracted by the, even by Vincent's standards, very odd behaviour. Well, by that and the sight of his naked comrade, to be sure, but still…

That night he snuck a nail into bed. Vincent was even more taciturn and stiff than usually as he crept under the covers as far from Cid as possible, but Cid ignored it and promptly fell asleep. There was nothing to be done until morning anyway.

**  
Vincent had difficulties falling asleep, but once he managed he usually slept like dead. So he never noticed when Cid in the early morning drove the nail through his nightdress and into the woodwork of the bed. After that, the pilot stretched and yawn.

"Time to wake up, Vince!" He said cheerfully.

A bleary red eye glared at him, but Vincent sighed and sat up.

His nightdress ripped on the nail, the cloth tearing even better than Cid hand imagined, splitting the dress in half and uncovering Vincent's back. Vincent screamed, a short, high sound and franticly tried to keep the dress together, but it was useless. The torn pieces fell to the floor by his feet, leaving him naked.

Cid paled.

Anyone who was around the pilot for more than five minutes, knew that he swore, cussed and cursed enough to make flowers wither and small children cry, but there were some words, *some* words, that he never, ever used. Not because he didn't know them, but because there were limits even to Cid Highwind's foul mouth. Some words would be too foul, whose meaning could never be brushed away, that would hurt to the core of a soul.

Everyone of those words were etched in plucked scar tissue on Vincent's back, from his long neck, down the slender back, massing on his buttocks, even on the back of his thighs and calves.

It was such a befouling of pale skin with the obscene and grotesque, that Cid felt physically ill.

"Vince…" he whispered hoarsely. "What the Hell?"

"Hojo." Vincent said, his voice very still, his head lowered. He made no move to cover himself, just resigned himself to endure the blue gaze trailing up and down his body.

"But…why?"

"Because he could, I suppose."

"Why…why haven't ya had them removed?!" Cid rose a hand as if to touch the scarred skin in morbid fascination, but lowered it again, unable to follow through with the motion.

"What's the point?" Vince asked bitterly, starting to pull on his clothes. "Those scars are only superficial. They're only outside signs of what he did to me…on the inside."

"If that was how ya true felt, then ya wouldn't keep hiding them." Cid said gently, putting an arm around Vincent's now clothed shoulder. Vincent shrank a bit, his shoulders slumping, but didn't answer.

"I'll help ya, ya know. We just have ta…"

"Don't you think I've tried?!" Vincent shook of the hand in frustrated anger and turned towards Cid, his red eyes a blaze with anger – or was it sorrow? "Nothing will help! No potion, no cure material, none of Aeris' healings has done anything! Anything! If you expect some greasy mechanic with a level 2 cure materia and some vague notion of chivalry to do better, then you are sadly mistaken! Now just leave me the Hell alone!"

Shocked by the outburst, Cid stepped back, swallowing nervously, but clenched his teeth and spun around. He barged out the door, leaving an angry and confused Vincent behind.

"Spikey!" Cid's roar made Avalanche jump. The pilot grabbed Cloud by the neck, twisting him around and all but lifting him of the sofa – a move that would ordinarily have caused the schizophrenic maybe-Soldier to go into limit break with devastating results, but now the younger man just stared into furious blue eyes and hiccupped frightened.

"What's the most powerful cure material we got?"

"Umm…yours is, Cid."

"Damn it! How much money do we have?"

"After we paid this Inn? Twenty gils and two shirt buttons."

Swearing, Cid dropped his leader back into the sofa, we're the young man promptly crawled away into the relative safe embrace of Tifa.

Vehemently cursing, Cid stared out the window for several seconds, his frown deepening to a scowl, and then he ran out the doors. A few minutes later the distressed members of Avalanche heard the Tiny Bronco take of and lift towards the skies.

"What was that all about?" Barret asked. "Were does he think he's going?"

"It doesn't matter." Avalanche jumped again as Vincent suddenly appeared in the doorway, looking tired and weary to the core of his soul. "He's not coming back."

Vincent's depressed prediction was proved wrong as Cid came back, dusty and tired, several hours later, a look of stubborn determination and success on his face. Instead of going straight for the teapot as he usually did, the pilot nodded at Vincent.

"Ya got a minute?"

Warily, the gunslinger nodded and followed Cid up the stairs to their room.

"Take of yer shirt. I want to try something."

"Cid…"

"Will ya just do as I say, Vince? Please?"

Aware of how he'd driven the pilot from the room with his outburst earlier, Vincent slowly removed his shirt. Cid swallowed at the sight of the blasphemous writings, but nodded doggedly.

"A'right. Just sit down here…" he pushed out a chair with his foot and fumbled in his jacket pocket as Vincent sat down, hanging over the back of the chair.

A slow warmth spread through his body as Cid touched something to the scar tissue, neatly and slowly following the outlines of the coarse words. He could almost feel the destroyed skin melting under the touch as it was replaced with new, whole one. A green glow emanated from Cid's hand and spilled over Vincent's shoulders.

"It's working!" Agape with wonder, Vincent sputtered the words, his soul seeming to squirm with joy as if the loss of the scars freed it too from chains. "I can feel it working! Cid, you are a genius!"

"No, I'm just a greasy mechanic. With a level 5 cure material."

"What? How…?"

"Sold the Tiny Bronco. No, don't squirm, this is hard enough as it is."

But Vincent turned in the chair, his face shocked, and grabbed Cid's hand. The material glowed in the pilot's hand with a steady, warm glow.

"Cid…"

"Yer going to go all 'I don't deserve this' and 'Ya shouldn't have' on me now, aren't ya?" Cid sighed and put his hands on his hips. "Well, let me tell ya, it was my damned plane, and I can do whatever the Hell I want with it…mmmff!"

He was rather rudely interrupted as Vincent grabbed his face between one flesh hand and one made of metal and pulled their faces together in a long, lingering kiss that made an entirely new sense of warmth spread through both of them. When he finally let the captain go, Vincent said simply:

"Thank you, Chief."

"Heh, no problems." Cid gently turned him again in the chair, and Vincent leaned of the back with a soft, pleased sigh as the material and Cid's hands returned to their cleansing of his body. "I even got money over, ya know. Bought as many Phoenix Down as I could."

"Why?" Vincent's voice was distant as he was lost in the pleasure.

It was probably a good thing that no one saw Cid's face darken as he saw the horrendous amounts of scars and obscenities that covered the lithe back. *Because when I find Hojo, I wanna be able to resurrect him once I killed him. Again and again and again…*

"Never mind, Vince. This is for ya."

"Thank you."

"Anytime."


End file.
